“Thank you,” said Harry, catching her deftly. “Delighted, I’m sure, ma’am! It’s a privilege to catch any one like you. Come on, old girl, and I’ll clear the track for you.”
A little farther on the Hermit had halted, looking a trifle guilty.
“I’m really sorry, Miss Norah,” he said, as Norah and Harry made their way up to the waiting group. “I didn’t realise I was going at such a pace. We’ll make haste more slowly.”
He led the way, pausing now and again to make it easier for the little girl, holding the bushes aside and lifting her bodily over several big logs and sharp watercourses. Finally he stopped.
“I think if you give Billy a call now, Jim,” he said, “he won’t have much difficulty in finding us.”
To the children it seemed an utter impossibility that Billy should ever find them, though they said nothing, and Jim obediently lifted up his voice and coo-ee’d in answer to the Hermit’s words. For himself, Jim was free to confess he had quite lost his bearings, and the other boys were as much at sea as if they had suddenly been dropped down at the North Pole. Norah alone had an idea that they were not far from their original camping-place; an idea which was confirmed when a long “Ai-i-i!” came in response to Jim’s shout, sounding startlingly near at hand.
“Master Billy has been making his way along the creek,” commented the Hermit. “He’s no distance off. Give him another call.”
“Here!” Jim shouted. Billy answered again, and after a few more exchanges, the bushes parted and revealed the sable retainer, somewhat out of breath.
“Scoot back to camp, Billy,” Jim ordered. “Take these fish and soak ’em in the creek, and bring back all our tucker—milk and all. Bring it—Where’ll he bring it, sir?” to the Hermit.
“See that tall tree, broken with the bough dangling?” the Hermit asked, pointing some distance ahead. Billy nodded. “Come back to that and cooee, and we’ll answer you.”